The storm came to an abrupt halt.
The world before Jing Ci's eyes turned black and white once more, and the depletion of his spirituality almost caused him to faint. He staggered back a few steps, barely managing to steady himself against a wall, leaving a crimson handprint.
In this silent world there was no noise, time ceased to flow here, as if a moment could last forever.
The Ancestor of Lu Shu stood blankly before him; after the dissipation of her immense power, she seemed to transform into a cold and insurmountable maiden, her delicate face losing a touch of indifference, gaining a hint of youthfulness, just like in the past.
The countless raindrops suspended in mid-air reflected her visage, breathtakingly beautiful.
Jizi Chuan half-knelt on the ground, as still as a sculpture.
